Part 3: Glinda With The Stomach Flu

 

The way it worked at my middle school was that your class and teacher stayed the same for grades six and seven and then in grade eight it was the same class but with different teachers. So I was unfortunately stuck with the same group of friends once I got to grade seven.  luckily, this year doesn't stand out for me which is probably a good thing. 

One day, I was wasting time during P.E because I was not a kid that enjoyed gym class. I felt like it was really embarrassing for me and my friends were mean, so I hid in the bathroom. I came out of the bathroom and into the gym and nobody was there, they had all gone outside to walk the track; which is an activity that I actually enjoyed. So on my way across the stinky gym floor, I hear a sniffle come from the bleachers. I look back to see a classmate of mine who I had never really interacted with. For the sake of privacy, let's call her Bonnie. Bonnie was popular. She was a part of the cheerleading program at our school and I had definitely seen her slow dancing with the cutest boy in our grade. She was best friends with one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen (let's call her Amber) and she probably didn't want to stoop to a level so low that she would speak to Becca Leavitt. 

But even at a young age, I was a sucker for people crying. I head over to Bonnie's direction to find her, face in hands sitting on the bleachers. "Are you okay?" I ask her. She is crying hard and tells me that Amber is being really mean to her, even bullying her. This does not sit right with me because I also understood the heavy impact that friend drama can have. I sit next to Bonnie, listen to her woes and offer to walk the track with her for the rest of class. She agrees. 

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Because my school did a production of Annie the year prior, they weren't going to put on a musical this year. My mom signed me and some of my sisters up for some artistic classes at a place called Creative Edge. Our family actually nicknamed it "Creative Wedge" because it was a tiny studio quite literally wedged between a Panago and a dentist office. I was put into an acting class with about 5 other kids. It was a small group, and I was secretly really excited to dazzle them all with my skills. The class smelt like feet. We had to take our shoes off to go on the stage but some people took their socks off too and... yeah, you get the picture. We received word that the whole Creative Wedge studio would be putting on a production of The Wizard of Oz and they weren't holding auditions, so much as they were just telling you what part you would play. I was obviously hoping to play Dorothy because I oozed star potential after my six months of fame during Annie. I was casted as Glinda the Good Witch because it was the only role that would have a singing part and I was definitely more of a singer than I was an actress. 

The only downside to playing Glinda, was that I had to share the role with the girl who took her socks off. Apparently she could sing too, but I really wanted to be better. Her and I got pulled into a real recording studio to sing "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" He wanted us to lip sync to our own singing at the end of the production while everyone was taking their bows. I did think that this was weird but oh well, at least I was getting some attention for my singing. The music director says something about the girl who will be playing Dorothy and how she would be the last person to take her bows. I say something along the lines of, "I don't like her, I think she's annoying." He looks at me very sternly and says, "Becca, that is not a nice thing to say." Obviously it's not a nice thing to say and I know that. I'm not sure why I said that out loud. 

The production comes along and I am so sick. Like beyond sick. I am throwing up, I'm sweaty, I'm feverish. I am not feeling like myself at all. But the show must go on. We show up to the theatre and something has gone wrong with my costume. I don't remember the details but I had this beautiful, pink, poofy Glinda dress that fit me like a glove and made me feel like a princess. I show up to the theatre, puke bucket in hand ready to rock and roll and I'm handed this dollar store quality, tent-like dress. It is not my pretty dress that I had anticipated but it was enough to make me cry. My mom got me in the dress, smacked some makeup on my face and snapped a photo. 

Luckily, I made it through the night without throwing up on anyone. 

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My seventh-grade year ends with a teacher's strike where we are let out early for summer vacation. It was a bit of a bittersweet time because I had to say a bit of an abrupt goodbye to my teacher that I really liked. As well as Mr. B, who helped me out a lot even though it wasn't always in the ways I thought I needed. i remember all of the teachers crying on the last day of school and my homeroom teacher standing in front of us in tears saying, "You guys deserve so much better than this." It was honestly heartbreaking, but I think at the time I was just really ready to not have to do math anymore.

 The year ended with a dance. I knew that I wasn't allowed to dance with boys at these school dances, but I usually did it anyways. This particular dance, nobody had asked me yet. There was only one guy (we can call him Ed) that I really wanted to dance with me, and I didn't think i had a shot. We were friends, there were a few rumours and speculations that we would "start dating" but we were both too shy to address it. It was the last slow song of the night, all of my friends were dancing with boys to the Shawn Mendes hit "Life of the Party" and I am wandering around the middle school gym by myself. I'm looking for a drink, a seat or just somewhere to go when I feel a strong pull of my arm. It's one of my close friends. "It's time!" she says. "Ed wants to dance with you!" she pulls me through a busy crowd of people. I'm sweating, heart pounding, face beet red. I have so many questions. This has to be a set-up. It isn't. The crowd parts, Ed is standing there looking really cute. He can't look me in the eye, but as Shawn Mendes finishes off the first verse of the song, singing the words, "We don't care what the people say." Ed asks me to join him for a dance. I agree and the whole group starts to cheer. He takes me waist and I take his shoulders. We sway side to side, our foreheads pressed together. I remember thinking that life could not get better than this. But it was the last day of school, and I wasn't allowed to date until I was sixteen, so I knew it wasn't going to work out with Ed. To this day, that song makes me smile because it reminds me of feeling happy and giddy and ultimately, like a child again.